Justice League Gods and Monsters Short Stories
by Composer of Discord
Summary: Justice League Gods and Monsters short stories focused on Hernan Guerra/Kirk Langstrom. All of these have been posted on tumblr and AO3, but transferring them to here. The following contains hurt/comfort, romance, humor, and drama, ratings from K-T, and warnings/ao3 tags will be listed at the beginning of each chapter; I hope you enjoy!
1. Where the Years Went

Summary: Hernan and Kirk have grown old. Some things have changed, but some things never do. A small work inspired by a friend.

Tags:Established Relationship, Fluff, written for a friend

Rated: K

* * *

"Dios mío…" Hernan sighed at his reflection in the mirror. Where did the years go? He had gotten old. Very, very, old. His once black hair was now peppered at best with white streaks sprouting from his temple. His face seemed long, and the corner of his eyes winged with inklings of wisdom, or so Kirk tells him.

Kirk…

In the mirror, he could see spikes of silver hair peeking up from the couch in the living room. He must be dozing off like an old man. Hernan laughed to himself quietly at the thought before he made his way slowly to the other room to see that Kirk had indeed fallen asleep with a book gently resting on his chest, and his red framed glasses perched near the tip of his nose.

 _'So this is where the years went.'_ Hernan sat down upon the coffee table opposite Kirk, watching as the man's chest rose and fell softly. His dark hair had silvered over the years, and his once perfect eyesight waned, but Hernan didn't mind. He liked the glasses. He liked how it framed his face and the color red was more than comical. It was cute.

"Age has been kind to you, mi cariño."* Hernan carefully removed the red frames from their precarious position. Kirk remained fast asleep. Next, Hernan moved to extract the book from Kirk's slumbering clutches. Still, Kirk did not stir. Last but not least, Hernan draped a blanket over his sleeping partner, and to his amusement, Kirk curled into it.

Hernan refrained from laughing, but instead leaned down to press a kiss to Kirk's temple. "Que tengas dulces sueños, old man."*

A snort sounded from beneath the blanket. "You've made me an old man."

"A muy sexy old man." before Hernan could even laugh, Kirk had him pinned down to the carpet with the blanket fluttering after them.

"Do you ever stop?"

"Muy be—"

A hand came to muffle his words as a flushed face loomed over him. "Even after all these years, you're still a child."

Kirk felt the incriminating smile press against his hand before Hernan's hand came to pry it off of him to reveal that he indeed was smiling. Kirk couldn't help but smile back. Even after all these years, if he could still make Kirk smile, they were worth it. Every single day of every single year was worth living when Kirk looked at him the way he did now. Happy.

 _'This is where the years went, with making you smile.'_

"Cada día te quiero más que ayer."*

* * *

*"My dear."

*"Have sweet dreams" used usually for children or sometimes significant others

*"Every day I want/love you more than yesterday" Taken from song lyrics

A/N: Please correct my poor Spanish if it's wrong. Nonetheless, thank you for reading and take care!


	2. My Happy Place

Summary: Kirk was enjoying his moment of peace before Hernan came along.

Tags: Implied adult themes, Mild Language, Established Relationship

Rated: T

* * *

Kirk wasn't one to lounge around. He wasn't one to spread out across the couch and kick up his feet. He found it distasteful, disrespectful as his mother had always scolded him for laziness. However, as the years went by of living with Hernan, who had made the Tower his home – their home – Kirk allowed himself to break his own rules once in a while.

With a book in hand or a stack of lab data, he would lie across the couch and read the day away. Hernan never said anything. He never told him to move his feet off the cushions, or to move over for that matter. He simply let Kirk be, and Kirk was very grateful for this. He was thankful he could just relax, and sink into the couch without worry, without being bothered.

That was until one evening when Kirk was on the last chapter of his book, he felt the couch suddenly sink. It wasn't Oso for he didn't hear any panting, but he did feel a warm weight come to rest against his backside.

Kirk nearly dropped his book.

"Hernan!"

"Hmm?" Hernan hummed, though it was clear he wasn't really listening as his hand cupped half of Kirk's ass lovingly while his cheek rested against the other.

Kirk flushed red at the sight, and reached behind him to push Hernan away.

"What are you doing?"

Hernan smiled, paying no heed to the hand that swatted at him. "Disculpe, mi amado.* I'm at my happy place."

Kirk's hand froze at Hernan's wording.

"H-Hernan."

"Such a lovely ass."

Kirk moved to roll from his stomach onto his back since Hernan certainly wasn't moving anytime soon. He was mindful not to kick Hernan as he did so although that might have gotten the message across clearer for Hernan only smiled at Kirk's new position. Instead of pressing his cheek against the lovely curve that was Kirk's backside, he got the front.

"I love this part of you too."

Kirk, not even thinking to check the page number, quickly used his book to cover his modesty from Hernan's perverted view.

Hernan pouted.

"Hernan…" Kirk struggled for words.

"Hmm?" Hernan didn't seem deterred in the slightest. A smile curled the corners of his lips once more as he found the hem of Kirk's shirt, and slipped his hands underneath to caress Kirk's newly exposed waist.

Kirk couldn't help but gasp in surprise at the touch while Hernan smiled victoriously. He pressed warm kisses across Kirk's waistline until he came to the bottom of Kirk's navel in which his tongue playfully came to flick at the opening.

"Eres divino,"* Hernan murmured against Kirk's stomach. "This too is my happy place." He then leaned up, blue eyes catching Kirk's before he moved to peck the tip of his nose. "This also." He moved to kiss Kirk's cheek. "And this, and this, and this too…"

"Hernan." Kirk turned his face away from the shower of kisses Hernan peppered across his face only for a hand to reach out and draw him back. He then found lips pressed against his, but this time Kirk didn't fight it.

The kiss was chaste, sweet, as it asked for nothing more than to just touch, to feel him, to be with him.

Kirk found the corners of lips curling up despite himself only to feel Hernan do the same as if he had passed on his own happiness to him. When Hernan pulled back, Kirk could clearly see the joy that curved those lips.

"You are my happy place," he declared. "Will you let me stay?"

Kirk nodded. "Yes."

And so, Kirk found himself laying across the couch with book at hand once more only this time he had Hernan's head resting against his stomach as he read. His arms cradled Kirk's sides while Kirk had a leg wrapped around Hernan's back, and they stayed there just like that in what was their happy place: each other.

* * *

*Disculpe, mi amado - Excuse me, my love/beloved

*Eres divino - You are divine

A/N: I saw a tumblr post (which I didn't think to like at the time so it's forever lost to the dashboard) of a guy caressing a person's Calvin Klein clad butt, and the caption was "My happy place". My mind immediately went "Hernan" and thus this small snippet was born.


	3. The Five Stages

Summary: There are five stages to grief. First stage is denial, then anger, bargaining, depression, and lastly acceptance. Kirk felt like he had hit all of them at once, except the last one. How could he ever make it to the last stage? Did anyone truly make it?

Tags: Depression, Grieving, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rated: T

* * *

There are five stages to grief. First stage is denial, then anger, bargaining, depression, and lastly acceptance. Kirk felt like he had hit all of them at once, except the last one. How could he ever make it to the last stage? Did anyone truly make it?

He had felt numb the first few weeks, a walking corpse in his house of memories. Every place he turned to, there was Hernan. A part of him lingered in every little nook and cranny of the house. He felt him in the cracks between the floorboards, the chippings of paint in the corner of the living room, and even that one kitchen drawer they always promised to get fixed but never did.

Anger had struck him a month and a half later. He awoke one night tearing the bedding to shreds when he could no longer smell the spice of Hernan's aftershave. No matter how deeply he buried his nose in the fabric, nothing. Nothing but the saline of his tears and the sweat from those sleepless. The dark shreds fell upon shards of broken glass.

Kirk was not a religious man by far, but for the first time in his life he prayed. Two months after the incident he was on his knees before the Virgin Mary.

"Why?" he continued to ask her. "Why him?"

Of all the people she could have taken, him being the most deserving of her wrath, why Hernan? Why him? Kirk had never done anything in his life to have her mercy, but if he had done anything good in his life, if he could do anything to bring him back, he would.

"Please… take me instead. Take me in his place," he pleaded as her craved wooden smile mocked him. She did nothing.

Three months after the incident and Kirk laid down on the bed he had made himself. Metal springs pierced through the mattress, and bits of foam oozed from its pores. Shreds of the bedding remained in Kirk's open palm as he stared at the pieces of dark material.

Hernan had chosen it. Kirk didn't mind. Hernan had chosen this bed, this mattress, and even the sheets for it too. He had chosen the flooring and most of the furniture, and the type of wood the kitchen cabinets would be made of. He built this place. He made it home, and all Kirk could see was it burning down.

He could see the four corners of the room up in smoke, the furniture blackening with every lick of flames, and then Hernan… He stood at the center of the room in his dark pants and collar shirt, smiling at him with his hand out for Kirk to take.

Kirk did, and Hernan held him. He held him tightly as their home, their world fell around them in ashes.

"Cuidate mucho,*" Hernan whispered in his ear. "Good bye, mi vida.*"

"Good bye… Hernan."

Acceptance… Kirk never thought he'd ever fully accept what had happened, but he accepted the fact that Hernan was gone. He no longer looked for him in the four corners of the room. He no longer called out to him that he was home, or ask how his day was as soon as he walked through the door. Perhaps that was because he really did end up burning down everything. He burnt down the bed, the four corners of the room, and all the bridges that connected him to Hernan. All but this last one, the docks, where they first met.

It was where it all began, and where it would all end.

He stuffed all his memories, all the words he never said, into a small bottle and sealed it tightly. He sealed the past away in a glass bottle that contained only a picture of him and of Hernan. It was a picture of what was, and what would always be, the love of his life.

"Good bye, Hernan."

Kirk watched as the sealed bottle drifted away. He didn't know where it would go, or who would possibly get it if it ever landed upon shore again, but Kirk hoped that if anyone ever got it, they would know that there was love in the world. True and unconditional love. And even if that love was gone, life somehow went on.

* * *

 _"Life's not over, it's just different." –Christopher Warner_

*Take care/take good care of yourself/be careful – said typically when departing

*My life - I've been told this terms is not used lightly, but I'm not a native speaker so feel free to correct me

A/N: Please feel free to correct my poor Spanish. Also if it makes anyone feel better, I imagined Hernan floating in the middle of ocean when the bottle hits his head. "Got your message, babe." Hopefully that makes up for the heartache.

Also, this was partly inspired by the mashup "Slow Dancing in a Burning House" sung by Louisa Wendorff.


	4. Neapolitan

Summary: Love in the freezer aisle.

Tags: Human AU, First Meet, Romance, Humor

Rated: K

* * *

"Brain freeze?"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry for being presumptuous, but you've had your head in the freezer for four minutes straight."

Forlorn, blue eyes glanced at the Ben & Jerry's chocolate fudge ice cream for another few seconds before he released a heavy sigh and straightened up.

 _'I bet Ben and Jerry are happy together…'_ "I was just… picking up ice cream."

The stranger hummed. "I recommend Neapolitan ice cream. It's ice cream for people who can't make up their minds."

Hernan couldn't help but huff at that. "Neapolitan? Alright, gracias."

The stranger offered a polite smile, before placing a tub of Neapolitan ice cream in his own basket.

"Can't make up your mind?"

"By the time I open this, my mind won't care about the flavor." the polite smile turned sheepish, and blue eyes, lighter than his own, met his. They looked at each other for seconds, perhaps seconds too long for the stranger cleared their throat awkwardly before saying. "Well, I should get going. Sorry for the bother. I hope you find your ice cream."

He turned away from Hernan and left the frozen section altogether.

Hernan got the Neapolitan ice cream.

It was weeks later until Hernan saw the familiar stranger perusing the frozen section. Those light blue eyes were shadowed by sleepless nights, and his long dark hair was tied back with a red rubber band.

 _'Cute,'_ Hernan thought. The length of his pale neck was an afterthought, but noted all the same.

"Did they run out of Neapolitan?"

The stranger nearly jumped from the sudden voice beside him. "Oh… you're the Mr. Freezer guy, right?"

"And you're Mr. Neapolitan." Hernan averted his gaze towards the freezer before opening up one of the doors, and grabbing the Neapolitan ice cream. "Found it."

"Indeed you did." The stranger took the ice cream from Hernan to place in his basket. It was then that Hernan noticed all the instant noodles, and the various Campbell's soup cans.

"Do you not cook?"

The stranger moved his basket behind him as if caught red-handed. "I'm afraid I don't have the time to."

"But all that sodium… it's not good for you."

"You sound like a mother."

"I'm just worried. Who else will pull my head out of the freezer if you're not around?"

The stranger laughed, and Hernan watched as those thin lips curled.

"I'm sure your girlfriend will save you," the man replied.

"No girlfriend, or boyfriend, I'm afraid. I'm solely relying on you."

Light blue eyes widened in surprise, although before he could say anything, the beeping of a pager sounded.

"Sorry, I have to take this." the stranger found his pager at the bottom of the basket and swiftly read the message. "Sorry, but I have to go. Good seeing you again, Mr. Freezer."

"You too, Mr. Neapolitan." Hernan waved the other off, although he was admittedly curious as to what he was going to say in turn. Did he come off too strong? Should he have not said he was single? Or was… was Mr. Neapolitan going to say he was single as well?

Ah, he was being an idiot. Who picked up people at the supermarket, much less the frozen section for that matter?

No one.

 _'Oh shut it, Jerry, and you too, Ben.'_ Hernan could feel the ice cream mocking him. He bought a tub of Neapolitan ice cream anyway.

It was another month until Hernan found Mr. Neapolitan standing by the freezer section with his basket at hand. He smiled over at Hernan when he noticed him.

"Hello again," Hernan greeted.

"Hi, ice cream again?" the stranger asked.

Hernan hummed in affirmation before glancing down at the stranger's basket. "What's this? No instant noodles? There's something green in there."

Light blue eyes shyly looked away for a moment as color began to run along his cheek. "I was going to try cooking something tonight since I have the day off tomorrow… but you're right; I'm not a very good cook."

"What are you cooking?"

"A pasta dish, thought I'd start simple."

Hernan glanced down at the man's basket once more. "Well, I don't mean to be presumptuous, but I do know some very good pasta dishes."

The stranger smiled. "I was hoping you would."

"I can help you pick the ingredients," Hernan offered.

"I would like that." the stranger offered Hernan his hand to shake, "I'm Kirk by the way."

"Hernan." Hernan shook the offered hand. "Although, before we go, can I recommend some Neapolitan for dessert?"

Kirk laughed. "Yes, Neapolitan sounds good."

Hernan placed it in his basket for the both of them.

* * *

A/N: So I just quickly whipped this up as therapy for my own embarrassing experience in the freezer section a couple of weeks ago, and decided to post this here today since a friend of mine got Neapolitan recently. I hope she feels better. Neapolitan, if you don't know, is ice cream with strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate. Thanks so much for reading if you've gotten this far, and take care!

P.S. Ben and Jerry's is a popular ice cream brand in the U.S.  
P.S.S. After having posted this on tumblr, I went grocery shopping with my mom, and she got hit on, so I guess this story isn't as fictitious as I originally thought.


	5. In Any Other World

Summary: Hernan gets stuck in the main universe, and discovers how different things are from his own world.

Tags: Bruce Wayne (minor), Clark Kent (minor), Established Relationship, I got some muffled screaming for this and not sure how to take that, hurt/comfort, drama

Rated: K

* * *

He knew he shouldn't have left. He knew he should have listened to what the other man had told him, but as soon as he had heard it – the strong solid beat he had spent sleepless nights listening to through the walls of the cave, he took off.

Against his better judgement, he chased after the familiar song he had been dreaming about the past few days – weeks, for it was what he needed the most.

Although he broke the rules, he didn't break them entirely. He was careful to land in an alleyway out of sight before brusquely making his way down the street towards his desired destination.

"Guerra, he won't be the same." the voice from his earpiece warned, yet Hernan's steps never faltered.

"I know."

"You are jeopardizing the timeline."

Hernan didn't respond.

"Guerra, return to the cave now!"

"I need to see him, Batman, and you cannot stop me." Hernan tossed the ear piece aside. He didn't care that with every second he was here, he threatened the time line. He didn't care if with every person who saw him, threatened all the sacred and natural laws that balanced all the universes and different worlds. Even if time folded onto itself or ripped apart by the fissures Hernan made, he was willing to risk it all.

He needed to see him; he needed to see Kirk.

The beat paused, then struck its course once more.

"Can I help you?" the stranger asked. His blue eyes were hidden behind dark frames, with wrinkles sprouting from the corners. They were the kind only caused by the long hours squinting at test tubes and peering through illuminated microscopes. They were the kind of wrinkles one had by the upturning of the corners of their eyes in time with the upward curl of lips. Even now, the corners of the man's eyes crinkled, and the upward curve of his lips soft.

Hernan could only stare.

The man waited patiently for a moment before the framed eyes fixed him with a stern look. "Please, if you are going to stand there silently, then at least move over two steps. You are upsetting the birds."

Hernan looked down, and to his surprise, there were pigeons circling his feet, and pecking the ground for crumbs.

"Lo siento." Hernan moved over as requested before asking. "Is that seat taken?"

"By all means," the man said indifferently, although his eyes remained wary.

Hernan thanked him, and sat down a foot or so away from the other on the park bench. It was quiet. The man said nothing nor did Hernan. Instead Hernan simply listened. He listened to the solid thud of the man's heart who was sitting beside him.

It was the same.

"Are you a scientist?" Hernan suddenly broke the silence that had befallen them. The man looked over surprised, before averting his gaze back at the pigeons.

"Was it the jacket that gave it away?" the man huffed bemused.

Hernan couldn't help but smile in return. "Sí."

"Hm, you're quite the detective." the man leaned back against the bench with his long legs crossed. "If your dark jacket is anything to go by, and a tourist too for initiating small talk with a stranger in a Gotham park."

"No, and yes." Hernan answered truthfully. "I'm not much for detective work, and I'm not from Gotham."

The man nodded knowingly. "So where are you from, stranger?"

Hernan paused for a moment before answering. "Metropolis."

"Across the bay? Then you're not much of a tourist." the man gave Hernan a measured look, but eventually let go whatever he had to say with a hand running through his silver-white hair. The simple motion drew Hernan's gaze towards the glint of gold that wrapped around the man's finger.

"You're married?"

The man paused, and removed his hand from his hair to look at the ring in question before looking over at Hernan. "Yes, for twenty years. And yourself?"

Hernan looked down at his own fingers. "Sí, four years."

"Four? Practically still newlyweds." the older man offered a polite smile. "Is the Mrs. here as well, or is this a business trip?"

 _'Mrs?'_ Hernan balked before a smile spread across his own features. "Business."

"Hm, I was about to question why a young man such as yourself would leave their wife to talk to an old man on a park bench, but then again, I suppose you could ask the same of me."

A dark brow rose in question, "Are you not supposed to be here?"

The man shook his head, "I… you see these crumbs? They are from the sandwich my wife prepared for me. It's four days old. I never got to eat it. I was too busy working that it slipped my mind, but she made it for me anyway knowing I would most likely not eat it. She even made it with her special Russian dressing she knows I love, and I… I must sound terrible to you."

Hernan shook his head. "No, my… partner is the same way."

"They make you sandwiches?"

"No, they don't go near the kitchen." Hernan laughed to himself at the memory of Kirk trying to make something for him. Even though it was charred and burnt, Hernan ate it all. "My partner is forgetful. They're consumed by their work, but that doesn't make them a terrible person. It just makes them passionate, and I enjoy when they tell me about their work. I might not understand all of it, but if it's something they love, then I support them."

Blue eyes blinked behind their frames in surprise before the man's smile curved softly – genuinely instead of politely. "I'm not sure whether this is newlywed talk, but I'm sure your partner is very lucky to have you."

"On the contrary." Hernan shook his head. _'He… doesn't need me.'_ "I'm sure, if your wife takes time to make sandwiches you will never eat, she feels the same way I do."

"Is that so?" the man nodded. "Well in that case, I should be heading off."

"Are you happy?"

The older man paused. "Happy?"

Hernan knew he had spoken out of turn, but the words slipped out before he could catch them. The man averted his gaze down towards the pigeons for a moment or two before a sheepish smile crossed familiar features.

"That is an odd question, but at the end of the day, I would say I am." he offered Hernan a departing smile. "Enjoy your stay, stranger."

"Gracias." Hernan watched the older man leave. He heard the thud of the heart grow fainter with each step, but he knew it. He knew it better than his own. It was his. It was him. It was Kirk, and he was happy.

 _'In another world, where I am never born, you are happy.'_

"Guerra."

Hernan glanced up to see another pair of blue eyes behind framed glasses. "Kent."

He was this world's superman. They shared the same biological mother except Hernan was a mistake. Hernan's birth wasn't meant to be. The world was supposed to have Kal-El, not him. Not Hernan. The world was supposed to have the Justice League Superman had shaped, not the one he had, and Batman… Batman was not Kirk. Kirk, the older man, had hands that never punched anyone – never clawed at anyone's throat. Instead it had a golden ring… a wife he loved. He wasn't a monster; he was happy.

"It's time. Batman is waiting for you in the cave." Clark interjected Hernan's thoughts.

Hernan nodded. "Sí, I'm ready to go back home."

 _'I don't belong in this world… and maybe I don't belong in mine either.'_

* * *

A/N: So…. I'm sorry? Maybe. I don't know. I've had this idea for a while, and finally got down to writing it. And I apologize for the little context in this story, but basically Hernan gets trapped on Earth one where Batman is Bruce Wayne and Superman is Clark Kent. He ends up spending several weeks there as Bruce tries to build a portal to send Hernan back. In the interim, Hernan learns about their world. He learns more about Krypton through Clark, and his relationship with Clark (even though they're technically half brothers) is strained at best. So really he's in a world he feels like is the way things should have been, and his existence in the other world is what caused it to be the way it is, which is not all gleaming and sparkly with morals. Also, the title of this comes from the song "Any Other World" by MIKA.

P.S. This Kirk is from the movie "Son Of Batman" so he has silver hair, his wife Francine, and a daughter, Rebecca.


	6. Red

Summary: Hernan reflects upon his life which he defines to be red.

Tags: Sort of a character study mixed with red, suggested adult themes, drama

Rated: T

* * *

Growing up, Hernan associated the color red with the tomatoes from his father's garden. He would pluck them from the vine and bite from them like an apple.

 _'It's juicy, Hernan; try it.'_

The way the pink juice would dribble down his weathered chin grossed a young boy, but Hernan held the large red fruit between his two hands and bit into it like red apples. Fake red apples that were sweet.

Hernan associated red with Valentina's favorite dress. She was not allowed to wear it on Sundays but she wore it at night when mom wasn't looking. She would dance through the trees in her red dress and whisper to Hernan her dreams of the future.

 _'Just wait for it, Hernan. I will meet a young gentleman who will sweep me off my feet and take me far, far away from here.'_

 _'Away from me?'_

Valentina smiled _, 'Never, I'd take you with me. After all, I need someone to do the chores in my new mansion.'_

Hernan went to tackle her but Valentina sprang from his grasp with a loud laugh. She ran, and Hernan chased after the fluttering tail of her red dress. The red dress Valentina dreamed of running away in.

Hernan saw red in his mother's prayer beads.

 _'For each bead you say a prayer, mi cariño.'_ His mother explained one night when she caught Hernan's watchful gaze.

Valentina slept soundly beside him as he could feel the small bones of her curved spine digging into him, but he paid little heed to it. Instead he watched as each bead passed through his mother's calloused hands while she whispered her prayers beneath the flickering of candle light and the red glowing ring around the burning incense.

Then there was that day, when he had knocked Valentina from the tree and he saw the bright red of her blood stain the grass - her skin - his hands. Red. Bright red.

He never forgot it.

Red was color of the lights after dark. Hernan would stand before the window watching the crimson bulb cast shadows over pale skin and black lace. Wicked lips painted red beckoned him with an upward curl. Sometimes he would indulge the red, other nights he did not.

Red was the color of a red scarf, drifting through the desert blue sky like a forgotten cry for help. Hernan would clutch his rifle closer to him and continue walking.

The hole in the wall bars were painted red and their beer stained tables were cherry mahogany, but what he remembered most was the red glow of the Exit sign well after closing time. Hernan liked to think it was an exit from a world of red. However, when he tried to imagine what a colorless world would look like, he never had the courage to step through.

Now he was glad he never did.

When he looked at those red eyes for the first time, wild and lost, Hernan couldn't help but think this was truly the color red. It was bloody cruel like the thorns that adorned roses, but just as enticingly sweet and innocent as the red bud. It was alive and kicking like a bloodied heart, and glowed like embers – the last sparks of a dying flame.

Red was the last cry before the dark; a color of the living, and so Hernan had brought him home, and welcomed red like an old friend.

Now when he looked at him, Hernan was reminded of the red of the carnation that his father had tucked behind his sister's ear. He saw red in the red stitching of a heart his mother had sewn in his father's hat, and he saw it in the scarlet string that blew in the breeze from the head of his father's guitar.

Red was warm. Red was soft. Red was the pad of his fingers tips when they ran across Hernan's arm. It was the flush of color across pale cheeks, and the quirk of lips that held a secret.

"Come to bed." Mischievous fingers tugged at the red of his belt. The 'S' symbol stood prominently at the center.

Hernan laughed. "Si, con todo mi corazón."

Those red eyes flickered up at him and Hernan knew.

 _'The color red always meant love, but I never understood it until I met you.'_

* * *

*Si, con todo mi corazón = Yes, with all my heart

A/N: So this was inspired by this one poetry book, "Bluets", by Maggie Nelson featuring her reflection on the color blue. I'm more than a little half way through it, but I love it so far, and thus this short little fic was born about the color red. Thanks for reading if you've gotten down this far, and take care!


	7. Superman

Summary: Sometimes Hernan wasn't sure if he really was Superman. Written as an accompaniment for Sdeeys small comic. Thank you for making my feel-rambles come true

Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

Rated: K+

* * *

"Earlier today another bomb threat in Metropolis Metro was nullified by Superman. Witnesses report that Superman broke through the top of the train car where he confronted the assailant. The bomber, as MPD have identified as Chris Richards, informed Superman that the bomb would go off if his heart stopped. It was then that Superman had shot his laser vision through the assailant's skull, which resulted in a non-consensual lobotomy.

"I ask you this, Metropolis, what is the difference between taking away a person's freedom of choice and simply killing them like Superman had the last bomb threat to the city? Is this man really Superman, or is he just another tyrant? This has been Lois Lane, reporting to you from the Daily Plan—"

The screen turned black.

Hernan couldn't listen to anymore of it. He couldn't… his hold on the remote tightened, but he refrained from breaking it. He had done so before, and as punishment, Kirk has made Hernan walk down to the store to buy another one.

After this particular report, Hernan didn't want to see anyone.

She was wrong.

Hernan had tried to talk to the man. He had tried to speak reason to him, to find another way to disable the bomb without injuring anyone. But the man had his hand on the trigger ready to fire, and had his heartbeat changed its rhythm drastically from either inflicted pain or sudden death, the bomb would go off.

He had no other choice. He couldn't have… he set the remote down.

He huffed.

Remote.

A device of control and yet Hernan felt like the only control he had was that of the TV. Everything else slipped through his fingers.

He was the strongest man alive, and yet he didn't have the strength to control – to stop the world from spiraling into chaos. How did Atlas do it? How did Atlas hold the world upon his shoulders so that the rest of man could thrive?

He wasn't Atlas. He wasn't strong. He wasn't Superman. Superman wouldn't have taken away a man's free will. Superman wouldn't have killed a child.

She was right.

"She's wrong you know." Kirk, who had been sitting silently beside Hernan the whole time, finally spoke up.

Hernan huffed once more, as he wasn't strong enough to hide his self-deprecating smile.

Kirk saw right through it. Behind those red lenses, Kirk's eyes saw right through him and once again, he felt so powerless.

"Hernan." Kirk's voice was steady. "What you did for me ten years ago on the dock, the compassion you showed me, is what made you Superman in my eyes."

Hernan averted his gaze, but a gentle hand upon his cheek drew his attention back.

"The things you continue to do for the world, is what makes you Superman. The fact that you worry about your own power, is what makes you Superman." Kirk said with a tone of conviction Hernan rarely heard from his mild-mannered friend.

"You are no tyrant; you are Superman."

His lips moved to form words of denial, but what slipped was a broken cry. What Hernan didn't understand was that Atlas didn't carry the world upon his shoulders. What he held was man's hopes, dreams, sins, and love. What he held was the future of everyone, and that would break anyone, even a god.

But Luckily, unlike Atlas, Hernan wasn't alone. The way Kirk drew Hernan to him was proof of that. He didn't have to bear the weight by himself. Kirk would be there with him. He always would be, for to Kirk, Hernan was the most human out of all humanity.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so this is all Enrique Iglesias's fault! I was perfectly happy and fine, until his song, Hero, came on the radio, and I cried about all my superhero pairings and this idea came along. I cried my feelings into the Superbat discord chat as usual, and the wonderful Sdeeys (check out tumblr) decided to art it, and then I decided to actually write it out. So this is for her/this is for you friend (if you're reading this).

Thank you so much to everyone else for reading, and as always, take care!


End file.
